


Stars & Secrets

by fouryearslater (CheshireCatLife)



Series: Tales Of Love, Family and Loss II [One Shots] [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Drunk Magnus Bane, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCatLife/pseuds/fouryearslater
Summary: Alec hasn't been in the Institute in a long time. Long enough that he's never met Clary, or Valentine; never helped them in their fight to end some of the most maleficent evils in history.Then Magnus Bane shows in his living room and there's a possibility that he's just a little,littledrunk.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Tales Of Love, Family and Loss II [One Shots] [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661071
Comments: 3
Kudos: 100





	Stars & Secrets

He watches the moonlight from his balcony. Arms rested against the cool metal, he counts each star one by one; each glimmering, shining point of light like they’re a point of reference on a map. He certainly needs to find something, although he’s almost certain the stars aren’t going to show it to him.

He’s alone.

Shrouded in night’s darkness, he feels it more than ever. The claustrophobic emptiness of his apartment weighs down on his shoulders, the inescapable blankness of his skin curses his every breath. His chest doesn’t beat as it should anymore, its rapid pace an ironic dichotomy to the sluggish traipse of his life.

He hasn’t been in an Institute for a year. He hasn’t seen his siblings in 11 months. He hasn’t seen his parents in 18.

This is his apartment, has been for a few months now. There were a few times in the beginning that he made do on the streets, with only his wits to keep him alive. He’s passed that now, and he’s proud of that. Claiming amnesia, he’d sought amnesty at the nearest hospital and started his life over again.

They’re still searching for who he once was; he isn’t worried, they’re never going to find anything. Even Alec feels like he doesn’t remember a life before this. He’s a mundane now, it shouldn’t surprise him just how _mundane_ his life is. Working at the office isn’t bad. He’s working towards a degree at the, putting that he’d been homeschool on his forms. He’s not sure how long until they figure out that lie but it’s holding for now. He’s studying business management, which isn’t entirely bad. It has a lot of similarities to what he’d been trained to do at the Institute, back when he was in the running for Head.

It feels like a joke now. Like some sick fantasy his crippled mind concocted to torture him. But even a dream can’t create this loneliness; you have to have lost something to feel something like this, like nothing can quite fill the void.

He has friends. A few. Maybe not quite friends actually, but acquaintances for sure. He goes out with them every few weeks, talks about mundane life in a way that he can never relate to. It’s fun, in the way that he’s allowed to get as pissed as he likes and sleeps it off the next day. He never drank back at the Institute, there was too much responsibility on his shoulders. He drinks a lot now. Freedom should not be this much of a burden.

He counts the stars again. It’s one of the few things that keeps him from breaking nowadays. Living in New York still, the stars are the same ones he grew up with; there’s a familiarity now that nothing else keeps. New York may be the same but he’s seeing it from a new angle. He doesn’t even have the Sight anymore; not enough of it, anyway, he catches glimpses when he focuses. But the stars never change. Just like the sun always comes up over the horizon. These things balance him, keep him from tipping over the edge.

The wind picks up a notch but he ignores it, letting the breeze flutter over his skin until goosebumps threaten to break out of his skin. His apartment’s nice in the way it has a balcony like this. Well, not quite a balcony. It’s got these large doors that act as windows that he can open fully and a metal railing stopping him from falling to his demise. He may be standing inside his living room but for better or for worse, he’s outside, breathing in the beautiful stench of his city and letting himself feel like he’s apart of something again.

He breathes in; breathes out. Repeats. Repeats until his heart rate starts to slow, although he can still feel the palpitations against his chest. It almost makes him laugh how even the slightest feeling can make him lose control now. He had bred himself to perfection and it had all come tumbling down. It was for nought. Everything was for nought.

“Well, _hello_.”

“FUCK!” Alec’s elbow slams into the railing, sending a jolt of pain up his arm as he spins towards the intruder, arm reaching for an arrow that he won’t find.

“Woah! Don’t fire. Oh, wait, you- What are you-“ Alec puts his hand down. “You’re not armed, great. I don’t know who you are but you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why the hell are you in my apartment?”

“ _Your…?_ No, this is. Oh, appears not. Sorry to bother you but-“ The man falls over. Only now does Alec realise that the man is spectacularly drunk, and a warlock. Great, a drunk warlock. Great time for his Sight to come back too, by the way. The man’s cat eyes are fluttering closed and Alec spirals into a panic. What the hell is he supposed to do? This man has broken in, although seemingly by accident, and is about to pass out on the hardwood floor.

Oh, for _fuck’s sake_.

He goes into Shadowhunter mode. Protect at all costs. Or, well, the Alexander Lightwood mode, seeing as so few Shadowhunters seemed to follow that motto. Maybe that was for the best, seeing as he wasn’t one of them anymore. He heaves the man off the ground, taking note of his surprising heaviness despite his slim build (then again, without runes, everything was so surprisingly heavy. Or maybe that was just his slowly forgotten exercise routine). His apartment is only one bedroom so he slowly trudges to his bedroom and drops the man onto the bed with a huff of breath, his arms slightly trembling.

He’s going to kill something.

He doesn’t move anything else, nor does he tuck the guy in, only grabs a blanket and returns to his little balcony. He’ll sleep on the sofa and talk to whoever this guy is in the morning.

~*~

He hears moaning before anything else and for a moment, a childish awkwardness floods his system as he misinterprets the whole thing. It becomes pretty obvious once the man walks out of the room, arms stretched out high above his head, another moan escaping through his lips.

He cuts off midway, arms suddenly hanging limply in the air like he’s a puppet on strings at the exact moment the wires have been cut. They hold for a second before he gracefully lets them fall, hanging limply by his side. “I don’t remember you.”

“You wouldn’t. You appeared in my apartment very drunk.”

“And then?”

“I let you sleep in my bedroom. I slept out here.”

“That’s…unusually kind.” The more Alec looks, the more he becomes aware of how much a hangover this man must be suffering from. So, instead of causing him any more suffering, he shrugs and beckons him over to the counter. “I’m Alec,” he introduces, keeping his hands busy by running the coffee maker: a fancy one that he saved up for over four months.

“Magnus. I’m sorry about…all this. And, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m still a little confused as to why you helped me.” Alec keeps his eyes down, staring at the coffee maker with the avid interest it deserves.

“It was dangerous to let you out. And, well, you passed out on the floor.”

“Yet I didn’t wake up on the floor.”

“You really expect me to have just left you on the floor?” Alec finally looks up from the coffee machine, two mugs in hand, and frowns at _Magnus’_ sceptical face. It looks almost wrong, like it’s something foreign yet Alec can tell its not. It’s only now, with the flood of light streaming through the large set of windows, that Alec sees Magnus truly. The makeup, the glitter, the perfectly done hair, even when he’s suffering through one hell of a morning after. It’s like he’s a cartoon, perfect and pristine. But cartoon’s smile, and spew bullshit about hope and happiness that just isn’t worth listening to past the age of ten. But, well, maybe that’s just Alec.

“It wouldn’t have been the first time. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I passed out in your living room.”

“It’s fine. Wasn’t exactly doing anything else.”

Magnus squinted suddenly, leaning forward just an inch, gripping his mug tightly in a white-knuckled grasp. “Do I recognise you?”

“I don’t expect you would.”

“Are you sure. You look like…someone I used to know. A long time ago.”

“From your eyes, I’m guessing a very long time ago.”

Magnus blinks. “You have the Sight.”

“Sometimes. It’s stronger in some places, with some people, at certain moments. Don’t really know why.”

“Well, it’s certainly common with mundanes but it is…” Magnus stops, eyes growing wide. “You’re the Lightwood, aren’t you?”

Alec can’t help but gulp, bringing his own mug to his chest as he takes a small step back. “How did you find out?”

“The only people I know who have sporadic Sight like that is Shadowhunters. It’s their birth nature fighting with their new nature and it causes a sort of in-between state. Apart from that, well, the blue eyes tipped me off first. Means you’re either a Herondale or a Lightwood. Seeing as I’ve met Jace, I guessed the other.”

“Jace is a-?”

“Oh dear, you’ve missed a lot. We’re in a war, Alec.”

“What. But-“

“Have your siblings not told you anything?”

“They…they stopped contacting me 11 months ago. They haven’t answered any of my messages.” Magnus looks eerily like he’s about to growl, held back only by a raging headache and desperation for caffeine. “Valentine. Your friends have been caught up in a lot of stuff. They’ve been in Idris. _Trapped_ in Idris, most likely. Electronic communication wouldn’t work there.”

“Oh. That’s…that’s good to- wait, trapped?”

“Jace is in a mess. I know of you mostly because of that. He still talks about his Parabatai. Losing you broke him. Then thinking Clary, his girlfriend, was his sister. Then thinking Valentine, the psychopath, was his father. Then finding out that Valentine, despite not being his father, still raised him. So, really, he’s not had the best ordeal.”

“And you…”

“I helped with the whole Clary situation at the very beginning. Haven’t seen them since. There seemed to be some mess with a ship that changed everything, not for the better. Right now, they’re being kept in Idris. The Clave is trying to fight Valentine but it’s getting worse. Downworlders are…well, let’s just say there’s a reason I got so drunk.”

“I need to help.”

“I don’t mean to sound harsh but you lost your runes, I presume. You can’t get into Idris.”

“Anyone can get into Idris with the right warlock as a friend.”

Magnus smiles and Alec feels something trip over in his chest. “You’re not what I was expecting.”

“You were expecting something?” Alec teases, leaning over the counter, just as Magnus does the same.

“Okay, you’re right, probably not, but I’m definitely enjoying what I’ve found.”

Alec smiles, bright and inane. “So, you up for a mission?”

“I think I am.”


End file.
